


You Gotta Carry That Load

by Ryo Hoshi (Hoshi_Ryo)



Series: Till Worlds End [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life, Telepathic Bond, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshi_Ryo/pseuds/Ryo%20Hoshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "Remember when Dirk messed up, and realized that Nepeta could carry weight for the both of them?"</p>
<p>Dirk knew he was in trouble when his blade cut into his prosthetic leg, and the hunt had taken them out of where cell reception was a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Gotta Carry That Load

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so how about slice-of-life urban fantasy?

Dirk had realized he had fucked up the moment he felt his blade biting into his own flesh as he cut down the last of their prey.  He’d let himself fall to the ground. 

He had not cut anything too major in his leg, so if he had done this back in Civilization it’d be just a quick trip to a hospital and he’d end up pretty okay.  As it was, it was the mostly-mechanical leg, from back when he had gotten into this job because he had been a stupid twerp and gone following his Bro. One mauling later and suddenly he was getting a firsthand lesson in prosthetics and why you don’t go following your famous movie director brother when he grabs a sword and tells you not to. 

Now, it was the main reason his sword hadn’t bit deep enough fast enough to nick the femoral artery (just the slightest bit short) as the metal of his prosthetic’s attachment where it slid under the skin, and he knew that he had done enough damage that he was not walking anywhere. 

If he was lucky, putting his weight on it would _not_ cause it to suffer a catastrophic structural failure.  He had read up on how the weave of metal and flesh worked, and knew that if it ended up ripping itself up…  He might survive the shock; he had, somehow, managed to survive the shock of the mauling. 

(His first vivid memory was of pain like he had never felt since, the only feeling in his left leg, and warmth flowing out of him.  His older brother’s face, sunglasses for once not hiding his blood red eyes, courtesy of their father’s vampire blood, showing panic without hesitation.  His brother’s voice, begging him to not die.  He knew, even then, that he was the only family his brother had left that he was close to, and when he was old enough Rose told him the full story.) 

Even if he survived that, though, the metal ripping itself out of his flesh would still do enough damage that they would have to cut away more of his leg.  That was assuming he was extremely lucky, and he was not like Rose, and had not partnered with a Serket. 

Not that he wanted to. 

The Serkets were crazy. 

He sensed more than heard his partner’s approach.  Nepeta’s favored form when they went hunting in the snow was one able to pad silently, Siberian tiger paws designed for it. 

That she was a shifted troll, though, was obvious enough from her green and grey fur. 

She pushed her cold, damp nose against his cheek, and spoke to him, Heart to Heart.   _The mighty huntress wonders if the fierce pony needs help?_

_The fierce pony broke his leg, and knows he should not put his weight on it._

Her initial reply was just flashes of images.  Nepeta knew what was done when a horse got a broken leg too bad to heal.  Her dismayed mind-image of Dirk (thin, white pony, now with a broken leg and a limp) flickered to that (muzzle of a gun pressed to the forehead, trigger pulled, a bang and a collapsing dead Dirk-pony) before she could keep it from flowing across to Dirk. 

He shuddered slightly. 

_The mighty huntress will get the fierce pony back!_

_What._

This time the mind-images were shared intentionally: a large feliniod with olive green fur and a fierce mane, with the Dirk-pony over her back, running with ease. 

Dirk hesitated, but knew that if she could carry him to at least where his cellphone had reception, his odds of survival would be a lot better.  It was cold, after all. 

_The fierce pony inquires if the mighty huntress has the trophies of our kills, so we might brag once we return to our den?_

That got a feline grin.   _The mighty huntress already took care of that!_   She pushed her head under one armpit.   _The fierce pony should stop whinnying and get on!_

He let her, not really feeling up to arguing and knowing that Nepeta was right. 

Her fur was soft under his cheek and had a slightly spicy smell.  He relaxed, feeling her muscles bunch beneath him as she shifted, getting his weight settled on her back comfortably.   _The fierce pony needs to hold on!_ was all the warning he got before, with a surge of muscle shifting beneath him, she took off running. 

He knew he rambled for most of the run.  Dirk knew that falling asleep probably would be fatal, until they were somewhere warm, and while he wasn’t certain exactly what he rambled about to Nepeta he was pretty certain it was something less than sane about the last party his Bro threw, of the real sort, not the fancy Hollywood shit that was mostly show and cover. 

(His Bro usually invited him to both, though he knew that Dirk usually would pass up the Hollywood ones and it was the ones that were their real friends that Dirk liked.  He had not noticed that his Bro had not lately sent him invites for the Hollywood ones.) 

Dirk was pretty certain that the last part he remembered definitely was after he had stopped being lucid.  He was pretty certain that an epic Homeric rap about Equius and Damara’s fight was not something he would normally have inflicted on anybody, especially with the properly homoerotic undertones with how he described Equius the Shetland Pony’s indigo sides had glistened with sweat, and how sweat had dripped from his black mane, and… 

He knew Nepeta was going to be putting happy circles later around where she had stuck him and Equius together on her shipping wall.  Nobody had quite managed to get it across that Roxy was his niece and he was just. 

You just did not go banging your relatives’ trolls.  Even if trolls thought that their relationship with their partners was some kind of romance.   _Especially_ if they were right about that. 

(Besides he was kind of squicked by all the questions raised because Nepeta and Equius both agreed that they were 6 and yeah no.  Dirk might like anime but that didn’t make him a pedo and then there were the consent issues, especially what with Roxy being all for it.  Dirk would never be certain that Equius actually _wanted_ to fuck him, instead of felt he was compelled to.) 

Still, when Dirk woke without quite remembering falling asleep, he was in a hospital bed, Nepeta curled up on the bench, taking a catnap in her humanoid form and probably feeling cross that hospitals insisted trolls stay like that.  She could wait until when Dirk was allowed to head home to finish healing up to sleep on his bed in her cute fluffy tabby form like he knew she wanted to be doing right now. 

He noticed she was wearing one of his jackets instead of her usual trenchcoat. 

The sketchbook sitting on the chair beside his bed told him that his Bro was there, just off getting a snack, and probably Damara was on his heels being her usual self. 

Dirk relaxed.  He was safe, and the worst thing he needed to expect for now was the upcoming lecture from his Bro with color commentary from his Bro’s troll. 

He decided he could handle that. 

(Later, when Roxy decided to go for a flying glomp, her knee landing in his crotch, he realized he might have been wrong.)

**Author's Note:**

> While yes, shape-shifting is a thing here, and pony!Dirk is the best pony, Dirk does not shapeshift.
> 
> ...Jake, on the other hand...


End file.
